Ryder is about ten feet ahead of me, occasionally looking back to make sure I’m keeping up. “You doing okay back there?”
“Perfect,” I pant, wiping sweat from my forehead.
Just when I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to collapse, the trees open up and I gasp.
The alpine lake is pristine. Its surface shines like glass reflecting the surrounding peaks. The water is so clear I can see smooth stones sitting on the bottom. The whole scene looks like something from a freaking postcard.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “This is incredible.”
“Told you.”
Ryder drops his pack and starts setting up camp while I just stand there gawking at the view for a couple minutes before moving to help.
The tent goes up quickly, followed by a small camp stove and a circle of stones for a fire pit.
“How did you find this place?”
“Trial and error. After I got out of rehab, I neededsomewhere to go where I could think. Figure out who I was without the pills.” He tosses the sleeping bags into the tent. “I’d come up here for days at a time, to breathe in the silence.”
“That must have been lonely,” I say softly.
“It was. But also necessary.” He straightens, storm-gray eyes meeting mine. “I needed to learn how to be alone with myself before I could be with anyone else.”
The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest tighten. This is the most he’s ever opened up about his recovery.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought up here.” He glances up from where he’s crouched by the fire pit. “This place is... special.”
Before I can respond, he looks away and starts pulling items from his pack. “We’ve got a little over an hour before dark. Want to explore a bit?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The fact that he’s sharing this sacred space with me feels monumental.
We spend some time hiking around our side of the lake. As we walk, Ryder points out different rock formations and wildlife. He’s surprisingly knowledgeable, and I find myself hanging on his every word.
When we find a fallen log by the water’s edge, we sit.
“I used to come up here when the nightmares got bad,” he says quietly. “Something about being this far from civilization, this close to something bigger than myself... it seemed to help.”
“You still have them, don’t you? The nightmares?”
“Sometimes.” He stays quiet for a few moments. “They’re not as frequent as they used to be, but...” He shrugs. “PTSD doesn’t just go away.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I want to reach for him, but I’m not sure if I should. “Is that why you looked like you hadn’t slept the other morning last week?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me, eyes soft. “But even with that, they’ve been better since I’ve been living with you.”
My heart stutters. “Really?”
“Really.” He stands and holds out his hand. “Come on. Let’s head back before it gets dark.”
FORTY-TWO
ryder
By the timewe return to the campsite, the sun is starting to set behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of purple and pink. I get the fire going while Noia unpacks the food.
“Please tell me you didn’t just pack protein bars and beef jerky,” she says, rummaging through the bag.
“Hey! Have a little faith,” I grin, pulling a couple of foil packets out of a small insulated bag. “We’re having hobo dinners. Potatoes, carrots, onions, and steak all cooked in the fire.”
